


Something Akin To It

by dleigh



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon, Points of View, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-23
Updated: 2004-05-23
Packaged: 2018-12-27 00:46:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12070314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dleigh/pseuds/dleigh
Summary: Justin's Introspection of what he and Brian are.





	Something Akin To It

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

When I'm feeling particularly upset or melancholy regarding my _non-relationship_ relationship with him, which is just so stupid in and of itself...we are in a relationship idiot whether you want to admit it aloud or not, I think back to when I knew. I mean, really knew that I mattered to him. When I say that "I mattered," I mean, when I realized that he realized it. 

Sure, I knew he cared, but to validate oneself we have to set degrees of feelings for someone or we can't seem to feel worthy. At least, that's what I used to feel. Now, not so much. He can flay me with a look. He can cut me with his eyes. He can kill me with his touch. That's what matters. 

Forget all that *audible* bullshit. It's all about the tingle or flush I get when I've been so affected by something even if it hurts. By something. By any little thing, really. _By someone_. Hell, it could be a line read in a book or seeing art or even hearing a sleepy whisper.

Thinking back now...when I knew how he felt, which solidified how I felt, was when I asked him if he cared if I was there or not. Feeling his hand on the nape of my neck, his heart beating and his breathe blowing in my face with his rush of "It's your call,"...I knew. Giving me power or cause...even choice...over him. That's when I knew. And, nowadays, when he balks or guffaws like the beautiful stupid ass that he is, I only have to see his eyes to know that while he may not admit it out loud...his heart is deafening. 

Why wasn't it enough at the time? That's a funny question. For him, he was giving me part of him and in turn, daring me at the same time. Freedom or ownership. That's what it really comes down to. I know it and he knows it. I chose to leave. 

Leave him and all of it behind. Because no matter what, it shouldn't be so hard to have someone tell you what they want. Should it? I mean, come on! To give a part of yourself, no matter how dangerous or frightening it may be and I know how frightening it is, believe me…it’s okay. Really, it’s okay to do that. But, with him, and I understand it now. I get it. It's that the fear of opening yourself up, giving that power, can leave you destroyed. 

So, he let me go. He took the risk that his actions while indecipherable to the layman but seemingly obvious to me would pacify. They didn't.

Many people will tell you that just because you admit and commit to love that it doesn't mean that you give someone ownership of you. Well, I call bullshit on that as well. It sure as fuck does. Look, you’re giving the other person complete and utter control over you. You may as well brace yourself for the ‘mother of all’ tramplings of your heart. And the bliss of no control. 

In a nutshell, you give yourself over to them to do with what they will. You can hope and trust that they will hold your soul and that love above all else...but it's a gamble. If you think to knock on wood or rub your lucky charm or whatever it is that brings you that peace and a little bit of luck...or telling them to choose for you...you may find yourself thin in the pockets, broken and barely breathing. 

On the other hand, you could find yourself completely and utterly sated with the ridiculousness and the beauty of love and life. Yeah. Or something akin to it. 

Who really knows what exactly love is? I’ve heard it all. Flowers and candy, sunshine, eternal damnation, whatever. I tell you, for me, it's his touch. His eyes. And the fact that he gave me the freedom... the actual choice over myself. And I chose him. But this time we both understood what was at stake. No fucking around this time, you know? What it was that we could possibly miss out on in the rush to deny and clutter up the simple things. He chose us.

That's why I came back. It's why he let me come back. So, when I'm ready to burn him alive in our bed or cut up all his clothes...I think of that night. His breath on my face. His eyes closed in pain from his love for me.


End file.
